Human Ties
by ibelieveinguardianangels
Summary: John Watson had never expected to see the tears of Sherlock Holmes, particularly not over something so petty.


**As a person who typically writes detailed and historical fiction/fanfiction, this was a challenge for me to change my writing style and try to look into how John would deal with such a situation. I tried to keep a bit of Sherlock's personality in their, but I'm not sure if it worked as well as I had hoped. This is my first Sherlock fanfiction and I hope it was okay. **

**I apologise for any mistakes. I also apologise about the title. **

Human Ties

John Watson felt his breath hitch uncomfortably in his, oddly, dry throat as he stood beside his flatmate's chair, his eyes trained on the stay tear that rolled slowly down the consulting detective's cheek, their eyes meeting as he looked up from the beautiful brown violin that rested on his shoulder, the bow clutched tightly in his right hand, his knuckles turning white, shaking slightly from the quivers that had suddenly taken over Sherlock Holmes' body. The doctor was aware that his friend had been upset by the quarrel between himself, Anderson and Donovan, but he hadn't expected such a petty argument to reduce the man to tears.

Taking a quiet step towards him, he gently prised the violin and bow from Sherlock's person and placed them carefully on the small table in front of the green sofa, Sherlock's typical furniture item of choice, not wanting any damage to be caused to the instrument, before turning back to the man and watching as he rubbed furiously at his watery blue-green eyes with a shaky hand, feeling betrayed by the tears; he let out an unsure breath, his bottom lip quivering dangerously.

John perched quietly on the edge of his chair, deciding that it was best not to say anything as he regarded the detective, not entirely sure about how to help the man who was usually so calm and collected; having not been in this situation before, he decided to let Sherlock take control.

"Look at me," Sherlock snapped, his tone making John jump slightly, "I'm crying." John nodded, "Over something so pathetic." The doctor smiled sadly, watching his genius of a friend as he stared, baffled, at the dampness resting on his hands, tears he'd just remove from his eyelashes that were quickly replaced. He waited patiently, aware his flatmate had more he wanted to say. "How childish of me." Sherlock hissed, more tears rolling down his wet cheeks, "How could I have ever let them get to me like this? They're stupid, childish, immature and yet, _somehow_, they've managed to make me cry. Why, John?" His tone held something John had never heard before and the ex-soldier didn't like it, "Why now? They've never bothered me before! Why are they bothering me now?" Sherlock wiped at his eyes again, sinking backwards into his chair slightly as John balanced precariously on the edge of his seat.

"Sherlock," John whispered, hoping he wouldn't startle him, "You've had enough of their behaviour and their attitude towards you, that's all." John picked at some fluff on his sleeve, his eyes raising again to meet the detective's "Every single time they see you they start tearing away at you and I'd have had enough of it by now, too." John assured him, "It's natural to feel upset, particularly when you're in an environment where you feel safe with people who care for you. It doesn't mean that there's anything wrong with you, Sherlock. You've just had too much of them, which I understand. Really, I do." John smiled softly, "You just need to get everything off of your chest and let out that pent up frustration. It can't be easy putting up with them on a, more or less, daily basis."

"But they're so childish." Sherlock huffed, "It not even as though they're being sophisticated in their insults, they're just saying stupid, petty things. But for some reason," Sherlock clenched his fist as though planning on punching something, "they hurt me," his voice dropped to an angry whisper, "so much" he looked towards John, the soft expression in the doctor's eyes calming him a little and his voice returned to a more normal, whilst slightly pained, tone, "and I don't know why!" John his heart sink as a sob escaped the tall man's body, the tears flowing faster now.

"Its normal, Sherlock," John promised, "they question and insult your intelligence. They tease and torment you, calling you names and saying things that they know will wind you up. They're doing it _so that_ they can hurt you." John explained, "As much as I hate to think about it, it's the truth. They're doing it purposely to get a rise out of you, and that's what they get. They know that if they say something, you're going to say something back to them." John realised immediately that he'd used the wrong wording.

"So its my fault?" Sherlock questioned, confusion in his eyes as his face crumpled, more tears escaping and rolling down his cheeks.

"No, no, I'm sorry, Sherlock," John apologised, not wanting the detective to feel any worse," I didn't make that very clear, did I? No. What I meant to say is that they're just childish and they want to hurt you."

"Why?" Sherlock questioned, his tone very childlike. "What have I ever done wrong to them?" He asked, his watery eyes connecting with John's.

"They feel threatened by you, Sherlock," John shrugged, "because they know that you are so much smarter than they are. So they try to hurt you to get back at you for it." Sherlock's trembling hand raised again, brushing against his cheek to rid his face of the tears before making its way into his dark curls, "They're pathetic, as you already know. You just have to try and ignore them. Switch off to them." John suggested as he stood from his seat, heading to where Sherlock was sitting and crouching down in front of him, his strong, yet soft hands resting on Sherlock's knees as he attempted to balance.

"Why am I so upset, John?" Sherlock questioned, his eyes falling to meet the doctor's reassuring ones.

"You're hurting, Sherlock, that's all. It's understandable. Don't worry yourself about it." John soothed, slightly disconcerted by this frightened, confused, shaking Sherlock who was looking down at him, another tear dripping from his chin and landing on his purple shirt, darkened areas showing how the liquid had been falling, soaking into the material and spreading. John felt as though his heart was being squeezed at the look of anguish and uncertainty in his usually confident friend's eyes.

"But they're just lies, right, John? I'm not really a freak?" John sighed, his thumbs moving slightly to try and comfort the detective as he rubbed at his reddened cheeks, still trying to get rid of the tears that continued to fall.

"No, Sherlock." John shook his head, "You're not a freak. You're a bit different and people feel threatened by that. When someone doesn't understand something they try and label it." He explained, "Anderson and Donovan aren't smart enough to understand your intellect and reasoning and therefore they try and categorise it by labelling you as a freak because that's something their minds can grasp and understand." John let go of Sherlock's left leg, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a handkerchief that Sherlock had bought him for his birthday the previous year; he handed it to Sherlock with a soft smile, watching as he took it and wiped his eyes.

"Thank you," Sherlock whispered, his voice cracking, "why can't they just accept me as me? Its not my fault they don't understand how my mind works."

"No, it's their fault because of their ignorance and their lack of insight." He heard the detective sniff, "It's not your fault, Sherlock. If they weren't so wrapped up in their own egos they might not be as rude. You know that the snide comments, remarks and hurtful names aren't going to stop. But you're smarter than they are, and the fact that they feel the need to categorise you tells you everything you need to know about their minds and intelligence, doesn't it?" John questioned as Sherlock wiped away from tears, the look in his eyes understanding as John gently attempted to calm him down.

"They're too stupid to understand." Sherlock stated simply, earning a nod of approval from John as he did so.

"Exactly."

"And so they try to destroy what they don't understand in the hope that it will become something they do understand." John winced slightly at his wording but nodded, thankful that Sherlock finally had some understanding of why Anderson and Donovan were the way they were towards him.

"Now you just have to work on not retaliating. Because if you don't retaliate, they're more likely to get bored and give up, see?"

"I see," Sherlock nodded his head, wiping at his eyes once more. John felt a smile tug at his lips, happy that his friend and flatmate was finally calming down, his tears slowly subsiding, his hands, though, continued to tremble and John remained crouched in front of him, watching the detective until the tears had stopped completely and his trembling reduced to a slight shake.

"How about a cuppa?" John questioned, standing from his position in front of Sherlock as the man nodded and John entered the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with two drinks. He handed a mug to a sniffling Sherlock with a soft, reassuring smile before taking a seat in his own chair and crossing his ankles.

"John?" The ex-army doctor looked up at his name, "Thank you."

John didn't reply. Instead he simply smiled in return, watching as Sherlock's cup of tea disappeared and the detective slowly fell asleep in his chair.

**Please let me know what you think and if it was any good. **

**ibelieveinguardianangels**


End file.
